Page 11 of Rocked By the Alpha
The man nods, adjusts his headphones on his ears and slides a button up the counter.
The song they’ve spent the last two days perfecting plays out across the speakers.
West screws up his eyes and tries to concentrate on the pounding beat of Trey’s drums, the low notes of Hunter’s base and his own work on the track. His phone is like a burning brick in his hand though. He has to force his eyes straight ahead so they don’t wander back to the screen.
Has she messaged him yet?
She’s probably going to be pissed off, but he doesn’t care. He’s feeling pissed off himself.
Boyfriend? She’s got herself a boyfriend?
Would’ve been nice if she told him about it rather than opening up social media this morning and finding photos of her with some dude splashed across every site. He’s some actor from a minor sitcom show. A Beta but unfortunately pretty good looking.
He squeezes his hands tight around the device, surprised the goddamn thing isn’t cracking in his hands.
The track stops.
“So what do you think?” Ash asks him. Trey and Hunter’s eyes turn to him too.
He shrugs and flashes a smile. “Sounds good to me.”
“Where is your fucking head at, man?” Hunter says, lumbering to his feet. “I’m going to get a coffee.”
“I’ll get usallsome coffees,” Trey says, following Hunter out of the studio.
“We’ll take a 10 minute break,” Ash tells the technician.
“Sure,” the man slides off his headphones and rolls back his chair. “I’ll go for a smoke.”
When he’s out of the room, Ash turns back to West. “Can you at least try? I know this is your least favourite bit of the process, but you’re gonna have Hunter popping a blood vessel if you don’t take a bit of an interest.”
“We’ve been in here all morning. At this stage it’s all fucking white noise to me. And you know Hunter is a fucking maniac. I can’t hear half the stuff he claims to.”
“He’s a perfectionist. It’s why our music sells so well.” Ash leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Were you out last night? Is that what it is? You look tired.”
“Thanks a lot, man.” He shakes his head. “No, I was home, on my own, watching TV and playing video games like a good little boy. There’s no one to go out with any more.” He looks at his friend pointedly. Since Ash got together with his Omega several months ago, he’s seen less and less of him outside playing music and the other commitments they’re obliged to make.
“It’s the bond, you know that, it’s still pretty strong. Once it’s weaker, we’ll go out, get a beer together.” Ash smoothes his hand across the counter, wiping away a layer of dust. “Anyway, there’s Trey and Hunter.”
“My idea of a night out doesn’t comprise of being lectured on the power of healing crystals by Hunter.”
“Then go out with Trey?”
“Yeah maybe.” He slides his thumb across the screen of his phone. It feels damp from his palm and hot. Has she replied yet?
“There’s the American Music Awards.”
West groans. “You know I fucking hate those award ceremonies.”
“You fucking do not, man. You get laid every time.”
The side of West’s mouth twerks in a grin. “That is one advantage, but I’m not sure it’s worth sitting through all the bullshit.”
“Depends on the girl, right?”
“Maybe. I’m bored with screwing around.” He stretches his arms above his head. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind an Omega of my own. Layla got any friends?”
“Not that she’s going to let you anywhere near.”
